Page 47 of Boardwalk Kings

I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin. “But you have the same last name as your brothers. You hold the same rank as them. Doesn’t that make you equal?”

“Not Dante. He’s the underboss. The next in line after my dad. Stefan, Angelo, and me, we’re captains.”

“It still doesn’t count for anything?”

“Doesn’t matter to Dante. He’s hated me since I moved into the house with him. And he poisoned the twins against me. They’re five years younger than me and ten years younger than Dante. They followed him around everywhere. So if he said I was the enemy, they believed it.”

“I’m sorry, Nico.”

“No, don’t do that.” He turned so fast I didn’t even know what was happening when he slid his hand beneath my chin. “Don’t pity me.” His grip tightened, and my heart hammered against my ribcage. “I accepted who I was a long time ago.”

The bastard.

He didn’t need to say it aloud for me to know what he was thinking.

“I don’t pity you, Nico.” Gripping his wrist, I met his intense gaze. “I understand you a lot more than you think.”

“Yeah?” Nico lowered his hand to his knee. “How so?”

“I spent most of my childhood alone. The only people who cared about me were the staff. Enzo and Angelina are like parents to me.”

“What do they do for your family?”

“Enzo is our in-house chef, and Angelina was my nanny. She raised me when my mom was off at one of her wellness clinics. Dad was always working for your family. He was hardly ever home.”

“Your father is valuable to us.”

“And I guess that makes me valuable, too.”

He nodded.

“Will you tell me more about your mom?”

“Sure.” He tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled. “What do you want to know?”

I put my index finger in front of my mouth, thinking. “Whatever you want to share.”

We cleaned off our plates and headed into the living room. Nico pulled me down on the couch and slid his arm behind my back, tapping his long fingers on my hip. His hand inched beneath my shirt and brushed my skin.

When we were like this, I felt like I was his girlfriend and had to remind myself this could never last.

Nico was dangerous.

To my heart.

To my mind.

But when we were together, I felt safe, like I was the only person in the world who knew the real Nicodemus Luciano. He wasn’t a Mafia captain when he was with me.

Just Nico.

My Nico.

“There was this one time,” he said, sliding his hand up the back of my shirt, “when my mom came to AC for the week. She was in a show at the Portofino with her dance crew and talked me into learning ballet.” He laughed. “She even made me wear pointe shoes.”

I chuckled. “Can you dance?”

He shook his head, and blond hair dropped onto his tanned forehead. “No, I was horrible. I didn’t get any of my talents from my mom. She says I’m physically her twin, but like my dad in every other way.”

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